Monade’s third release, Monstre Cosmic, is an album best listened to while wandering in the soft glow of dusk or while lying awake in bed at 3 a.m. Laetitia Sadier’s soft vocals waft over dreamy swells of cellos, vibraphone, and theremin while sounds of the city wash in and out of the texture. Inspired by the content of dreams and the duality of dark and light, the music traverses ever-changing textures and tambours without ever losing its hypnotic lull.
In explaining the album’s concept, Sadier (also the voice of Stereolab) writes: “The original idea behind the writing of the tracks was a river; to have one long track that would take its course and you would never hear the same part twice, just as one can never swim in the same river because of the elusive flow of the water.” Monstre Cosmic certainly accomplishes that aim: the songs run together into a stream of consciousness musical suite and float seamlessly through jazzy chord changes and complex time signatures without ever interrupting the flow. That they often transition imperceptibly from one to another and paint similar dream-like images makes it difficult to think of them as even being separate pieces.
For the most part, the album maintains a dreamy and dark atmosphere. Sadier was influenced by the work of David Lynch while recording, and this comes through in the compositions. The songs stick mainly to minor keys, and though there are some builds, most of them simply drift dreamily through different sections. The listener is broken out of this hypnotic reverie by occasional but abrupt changes to up-tempo pop, sawing, '60s pop strings, woodblock, or trombone lines channeling late '60s bossa nova.
These colors are what really keep the album engaging. The production is brilliant, and the listener’s ears are constantly stimulated by new sounds and timbres, all of which sound crisp and present without ever overwhelming the mix. In “Entre Chien Et Loup,” the dreamy lull is broken with an unexpected tempo change and an insistent acoustic guitar that builds with the drums and vocals toward what is arguably the album’s most passionate moment. When the funky guitar or trombone of “Regarde” breaks through the cloud of acoustic guitar and vocal harmonies, it’s impossible not to nod your head to the beat.
Despite the collage of sounds and textures and the dark pensiveness that pervades the album, Monstre Cosmic never ceases to be pop—pleasant and accessible. The songs never move faster than medium tempo or rise above a medium-soft volume. Even at its most intense moments, the music floats dreamily, and at times, it’s difficult to keep it from moving to the background or even becoming monotonous. Still, the constantly shifting colors and orchestration never lose their intrigue, and it’s impossible not to rock back and forth and let your head float away with the music.
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